Tales from the campfire
by Madam Mimm
Summary: Found on an old hard drive, figured someone might enjoy it. Alistair with my dwarven commoner warden, Lina Brosca. May become an ongoing thing if people want it. A collection of snippets from around camp and between the cut scenes, looking at how they got to know each other.


Alistair:

It had been a long, long…. _Long_ couple of weeks. Alistair hadn't ever felt this raw in his life, not even when he'd been shipped off to the chantry against his wishes.

It had started… almost sensibly, really. Blight was coming. Grey Wardens go to Blight. Kill Darkspawn, go home. Simple, right?

They had marched to Ostagar without Duncan, as he had been out searching for recruits when the call came. Alistair wasn't entirely sure it had been worth it; when Duncan finally joined them at camp he had a grand total of three potential Wardens with him.

Three.

Because one hundred and three was so much scarier than one hundred.

And the calibre of these three… First, there was Ser Jory. The knight who hadn't quite understood that being a Grey Warden was about more than picking up a couple of posters from the Chanter's board and going slightly out of your way to check on a caravan. Then there was the rogue… Daryl? Davey? Daveth, that was it. Brave in heart, less so in practice. Alistair had not been impressed and wasn't really surprised when the joining wiped them out. The only one who survived was Lina.

Lina.

Lina was a dwarf. An Angry dwarf. An angry dwarf with white hair, a black eye and a face brand. She swore like a sailor, carried a sword as big as she was and ate… well, she ate like Alistair. He liked her, although she had scared him a little at first. Duncan had introduced her as "Lina, although apparently the name everyone in Orzammar knew her by was 'Thumpalina'." It fitted. She was small and violent. She had surprised Alistair with her strength, both physically and of will.

After the battle, though…

The battle. Maker's teeth, Alistair still hurt over that. He knew as a warrior it was his duty to carry on, to get over it and march proudly forward, but his friends, his brothers, all wiped out. Now it was just him and Lina left.

Well, left of the Wardens, anyway. Among Lina's many talents (swearing, waving giant swords about, also the sassiness, had he mentioned the sassiness? She gave him a run for his money, and that was saying something) was somehow the ability to accumulate people. She had only shared the briefest information on her life before the wardens, picking fights in the pauper's quarter of Orzammar. Apparently, that had involved learning how to tell people what they wanted to hear. So now, escorting the two remaining Grey Wardens on their mighty quest was the swamp witch, who Alistair trusted about as far as he could throw (although he wouldn't mind being given the chance to see how far that was, particularly if it was off of something tall), the Mabari war hound that Lina had nonsensically named Kindness and then laughed about for the rest of the day, a babbling cloistered sister named Leliana who said she had a vision from the Maker himself, and Sten. Sten was… Sten. A Qunari that had been imprisoned for murder. Alistair was certain the only way he would feel less safe would be to march into their next fight completely naked.

They had set up camp not far from Lothering, resting up for the night before heading off to Redcliffe. Alistair made sure to set himself next to Lina, although whether he was protecting her, or she him, was hard to say. It didn't seem that necessary though, as Morrigan had set up her own camp a hundred yards or so away, and Sten had instantly gone and sat inside his tent. Social, they weren't. Alistair and Lina had set up their tents and were building their fire when it hit him.

"OH! Kindness. We'll kill them with Kindness. I get it."

"Well done, only took you the day," Lina said, laughing. Alistair sat down on a tree stump and started unbuckling some of his armour.

"Forgive me, I've been preoccupied. You know, with the Blight and the doom and so on."

Leliana giggled but didn't look away from where she was preparing dinner for the evening. She had offered to cook as she'd picked up some supplies in Lothering that were close to going bad and needed using. Alistair was glad, it saved everyone from his coking for another night. That was all they needed, for the history books to record 'all but two Grey Wardens perished in the Blight's attack on Ostagar. They died later, of food poisoning'.

"Here," Lina was rummaging in her pack and produced a handful of papers, stained with blood. She handed them to Alistair.

"What are these?"

"Letters, I think. I found them on one of the bodies in the Wilds. Thought we could keep hold of them, deliver them to whoever's missing their husband or son or whatever."

"Really," Alistair looked at her, feeling his grip on sanity further slipping, "really? We're stealing things from dead people now?"

"I thought you'd be on board with it," Lina sighed, prodding the fire properly to life, "bringing solace to the widows of war and so on."

Alistair grudgingly had to admit she had a point.

"Alright, where are we taking them?"

"Don't know, read them for me and find out."

"What? It's your idea, why haven't you read them?"

"Uh, gee, maybe 'cos I can't?"

"What?" Alistair narrowed his eyes at her, "what do you mean you can't read?"

Lina puffed air into her cheeks, her hands raised to the skies.

"I don't know what to tell you. You know how you can read? Well, imagine not doing that, and then imagine not doing it ever."

"But that's ridiculous," Alistair said. Oops.

Lina stared at him, her face hardening into anger. Alistair cleared his throat, trying to recover.

"I mean, you're not-"

"Not what?" Lina's voice was deadly friendly. So forcedly merry and fake, it said without doubt that she was looking for an excuse to stab him with the aforementioned big sword. "Not Chantry educated? Not some stuck-up noble with more time and money than they know what to do with? Well done, right on both counts."

"Alright, sorry, I didn't mean it!"

"Then what did you mean?"

"Um," Alistair panicked. Something happened when he looked at her, something that made him feel simultaneously terrified and elated. He was very glad she was on his side. Or, would be if he ever thought of a way to talk out of this situation.

"He means that it's a shame you're going without such a skill," Leliana looked up from where she was chopping vegetables, smiling sweetly, "and he appreciates that he had very different opportunities to you as a child, wasn't that it Alistair?" She gave him a pointed look. He nodded, dumbly.

"Oh… Well, yeah, I guess it's a shame. Whatever," Lina sat back again, seemingly settled. Alistair tried again.

"I mean, I could teach you, if you want?"

She looked at him, guarded, like she was waiting for some trick or trap. He smiled at her.

"It just seems like a silly thing to not be able to do."

Hesitantly, Lina nodded. Alistair nodded back, feeling relief flood his veins. He took some blank vellum from his backpack and set about teaching her the alphabet. Lina terrified him. But, as he sat there, watching her puzzle over the letters and sounds they made, he started to get why. It wasn't just because she was a fearsome warrior or a street-wise brawler. It was because she was determined to win at everything she could and, he thought, she probably would.

Lina:

Once Zevran joined them, things got silly. He was flippant and had the same casual acquaintance with death as Lina. They got on well.

Oddly, Lina noticed that Alistair had been less friendly since they started heading to Redcliffe. He spent more time walking and talking with Wynne. Lina knew Alistair didn't like Morrigan, but she couldn't see why he would take an instant dislike to Zevran as well. Honestly Lina got on great with both of them; the three of them together would kill with sarcasm and then, you know, actually kill. It was reassuring sometimes to talk to people who had a similar upbringing, she guessed.

She wouldn't mind, but she liked Alistair. She'd be at knife-point before she admitted it, but she even liked their reading lessons together. All she'd been able to pick up in Orzammar was basic runes, "no entry", "free", and so on. But once Alistair had taught her the letters, she was able to put them together to make words. She was getting kind of good at it.

One night, she had finally convinced Alistair to give her another lesson. He was definitely getting weird lately, like he was angry at her but was trying to keep a secret from her as well? Surfacers were weird.

They were sat by the fire, going over the letters again because sometimes if you put two of them together they sounded like a different one, which sounded like unnecessary complication to Lina. Zevran sat down opposite the fire.

"You know," he said, with a smile, "the mistresses at the brothel had a very nice trick for helping me learn my letters."

"I'm sure they did but please don't distract her," Alistair said, surprising Lina. Normally she was the aggressive one.

"What was the trick?" She asked. Maybe if Zevran and Alistair could share some stories, they'd get to like each other.

"They used to write letters on their breasts and I would have to rearrange them to make a word. Sometimes they'd be a letter short, so I had to get in the middle."

"No, they didn't," Alistair sighed. "Can you please be elsewhere while I am trying to teach someone to better themselves?"

Lina leaned away from him.

"Better? I thought this was just a silly thing not to know?"

"Oh, Maker's breath! I can't do anything right, can I?" Alistair stood up, holding his hands up. "Fine, sit here with the sex-maniac and laugh about your hilarious childhoods where you neither had time for anything as soft as reading."

"Alistair-"

"Forget it. You know, a Dwarf once told me, you can't take Dust Town out of a duster. I never knew what that meant but I think I'm starting to."

Lina felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She stumbled to her feet.

"take that back."

"What?"

"You take that back!" Her hand went to her sword, without her thinking about it. If Wynne hadn't gripped her arm, Lina probably would have drawn it on him. Alistair had a strange look on his face. Like he didn't understand. Like he had thought he was telling a joke but now he wasn't so sure. Lina stared him down. He turned and went back to his tent. Zevran started laughing. Lina stormed off, not even sure which direction she was going. It wasn't until she was surrounded by trees that she was even aware how fast she'd left. She punched a tree. It made her feel slightly better.

"I wish you wouldn't care about what he says so much," the voice was haughty and drifted from some place a few feet behind her. She turned to see Morrigan leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree.

"I know. He wouldn't know, he's not a dwarf."

"No, he's an idiot," Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. "Who cares what he calls you?"

"He's just… never had to put up with those names."

Morrigan thought for a moment.

"We could give him some names to put up with." Her smile was wicked. Lina started to feel a little better.

Alistair:

Alistair was starting to dread putting on his equipment each day.

It started with a very rude word for male genitalia painted in glowing runes onto his helmet. He stopped wearing his helmet and got hit in the head twice because of it.

Then it was an even worse word that made Alistair blush just to think about what it meant, in the same glowing runes on his sword. The giggles told him exactly who was doing it. So, he started doing it back.

Except Lina knew far more, far worse curses than him.

Every day they grew closer to Redcliffe and Alistair became more and more concerned that all his kit and most of Lina's was covered in glowing obscenities. Wynne tutted every time she saw him. Sten sighed despairingly every day. Zevran delighted in discussing the meaning and translations of each new word that appeared, usually to Leliana, who would then discuss what equivalent words there were in Orlais. Eventually he had more than he could take.

He approached Lina at camp and threw his sword at her feet.

"I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I suggested you were lesser for not knowing how to read. I'm sorry I said that word. I'm guessing that's one of those "only dwarves" words, but I didn't know that. Can we please, please stop this before we go any further? We are supposed to be the last of a proud and noble order and this is childish."

Lina smirked at him.

"That's your apology, is it?"

He shrunk a little. She laughed, bitterly.

"See here's the thing. While you were at the chantry, having a miserable time reading, with a warm place to sleep and a meal every day, I was getting punched and kicked and spat on and figuring out how to fight back, but I was also figuring out how to talk to people. I may not know how to read but I know more words than you and I know how to use them."

"Alright. You're right." Alistair took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm sorry. You're right about all of that, and… that's why I was upset. If you want to spend more time with Zevran or Morrigan, I understand. I won't try and press reading lessons on you again. I'm sorry."

He turned to leave, but she grabbed his forearm to stop him. He was surprised.

"Alistair. I don't want to spend more time with them. Zevran's fine, and I like talking to him, but I like him because… he reminds me of a friend from Orzammar. He stops me from feeling homesick, but also, he makes me remember why I'm out here. Why I joined the Wardens. Why I need to learn to read and to be a good Warden. Like you." She smiled at him, her scarred, freckled face lighting up. "I'll stop writing on your stuff. Even if it's good spelling practice."

She patted him on the arm. Alistair nodded and tried to smile back. His insides were a mess, conflicting information firing all through him.

One of the many thoughts that crossed his mind was that he was going to have to tell her. Another was that he wasn't sure he could take it if it made her treat him differently.

Lina:

Lina and Alistair were halfway up a mountain, and neither of them were happy.

One problem with living underground most of your life is you don't get to discover you have a fear of wide, open spaces and heights until you're in the worst possible position. Leliana and Wynne had gone scouting ahead, each wearing less armour so able to handle the steep climb easier. Alistair was doing his best to help her with her discomfort. He'd been extra nice since they'd had a couple of frank discussions. She felt kind of like he was apologising for who he was. It had kind of stung her, honestly, to find out her friend was a royal. Somehow, she could leave Orzammar and still be the casteless. It wasn't nice. But he was. He didn't have any interest in pursuing his royal heritage, and while that kind of nagged her a little, at night, thinking about how someone could be born to that and chose to ignore it when so many are going to such lengths to have it… while that scratched at the back of her mind, she knew that in the short term it was good. Alistair was a Warden and would stand with her no matter what. It was a good thing.

Right now, she knew her mind was wandering so she wasn't thinking about the sky all around her. Looking down at the path they had climbed made her feel sick. She wasn't used to being scared like this.

"Hey, come on," Alistair smiled, bumping her on the arm. "Nearly at the top. Keep going, Thumpalina the mighty!"

She smiled back, awkwardly. He was now the only person who even knew that nickname.

"It's a funny name," he said, "clever to use 'Lina' in it."

She stopped, staring at him for a moment. "Oh", she thought.

He stopped, a few steps ahead of her.

"What?"

She licked her lips. It felt kind of awkward to bring it up now.

"You do know that Lina isn't my actual name, right?"

"What?" His eyes grew wide. "No, Duncan said… wait, what is your name then?"

Lina looked at the ground. She felt very precarious, with sky all around her, ground stretching down below, and Alistair looking at her like he was worried he'd hurt her.

"I don't…" she mumbled, "I don't have one."

"What? How can you…what?"

She shrugged and started walking. "It's not important. Everyone calls me Lina so that's my name now I guess. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Whatever."

"Li-" Alistair started talking and stopped suddenly. He caught up with her easily, damn his longer legs, and grabbed her arm. "Please. Tell me. You can't just say something like that and not expect me to follow it up."

Lina sighed. The ground was too steep, she felt like she was going to fall into the sky any second. She sat down and hugged her knees to her chest. Alistair sat next to her. She took a deep breath, unsure where to even start. How do you address the first hurt you ever knew?

She talked slowly at first, like rain flowing down a dried-up riverbed.

"In Orzammar, if you're a casteless, they have a shaperate emissary at every birth. In case the child is a noble, so they can record it. When Mother gave birth to Rica, she was such a beautiful baby that the emissary even said it would be a shame to brand her face. Mother loved her because she was a child of romance, not of need. My whole life was looking after her. She was the pretty one and I heard about it every day. Anyway, a year after she was born I came out, but was backwards and blue. The emissary said he wouldn't brand me if I wasn't going to survive so he'd come back in a few days. The neighbour who'd come to help with the birth asked Mother what she wanted to call me, and she said there was no point. I was so tiny and twisted up she said, 'that thing'll be dead by eve'. So, I never got a name. Got my brand though, and that was all anyone cared about. I was called brand or Brosca for the first few years of my life. First time I got in a fight someone called my Thumpalina as a joke, it stuck. Then people started saying Lina for short. I guess it's better than brand."

She looked over at Alistair and blushed, instantly looking away again. He was staring at her with the kind of eyes you normally only get when you see a bag of kittens left at the side of the road. Pitying, sad, like he was going to pick her up and hug her. She tried to keep that image out of her mind. She shrugged, wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and stood up again.

"Whatever. Let's go."

She didn't look back, but she heard Alistair's armour and pack clanking behind her. He kept his distance for a little while. In fact, he only spoke to her about the quest in hand. All the way through the village and into the temple, he didn't mention it. Possibly because he didn't want to get in her bad books again by blabbing in front of Wynne and Leliana. Lina was glad he had that much sense.

Then the awkward moment happened.

The awkward moment in which they were confronted by a wall of fire and Lina read, all by herself, the inscription that told them to take their clothes off. Then Alistair re-read it just to be sure. Then they all had to awkwardly leave their clothes on the altar so Andraste could see their bare whatevers, and then even more awkwardly put all their clothes back on while trying to maintain each other's privacy. It wasn't until they were heading back down the mountain again, Alistair and Lina lagging behind again because the only thing harder than going uphill in heavy armour was going downhill in heavy armour, that Alistair spoke to her.

"I've been thinking about your story, and I think you're wrong," he said, matter-of-factly. Lina was so surprised, she missed the first half of what he said.

"Sorry?"

"Your story. I think you've always had a name. Your mother said you'd be dead by eve, right?"

"Right?"

"Well I've just seen you fight ghosts, crazed cultists and a dragon, and solve puzzles and not even break a sweat. I think the only thing that'll ever get close to killing you is yourself."

"So?"

"So that's your name, then, isn't it? Eve."

Lina laughed, not sure why she was feeling fluttery in the stomach but putting it down to the height of the mountain again.

"Please don't start calling me Eve."

"Too late, you'll always be Eve as far as I'm concerned." Alistair bumped her arm and lead the way down the hill. Lina focused on not tripping and not thinking about how the word Eve sounded when Alistair said it.

Alistair:

He couldn't stop glancing at her. He'd given her the rose he had picked and pressed. She seemed to like it, even if she'd been a bit short in her answers. She'd blushed, even if she laughed at him for blushing too. He was starting to get better at reading her, or at least he thought he was, but she hadn't spoken to him much since. They were heading back to Orzammar. He was pretty sure that was the reason why.

He hoped that was the reason why.

She almost dropped her sword when they got into a fight outside the city gates. She was obviously nervous, but he had no idea how to soothe that.

"Hey," Alistair said, quietly, as they entered the city, "we're Wardens. You've grown a lot since you left here."

Lina laughed, bitterly. "I still feel pretty small."

They made the rounds and Lina showed remarkable self-control every time someone stared at her brand while they were talking to her or referred to 'the unfortunate business' she was involved in before becoming a Warden. After a couple of times, Alistair had to resist the urge to snap on her behalf. He could see how it was wearing on her; her shoulders tensed a little more each time, her face became a little more set.

Then they bumped into her sister.

They were happy to see each other, or so it seemed, but that tension didn't go away. Alistair was barely listening to the conversation. He was too busy looking from one sister to the other and back again.

When Rica turned sharply on her heel and left, Lina's cheeks were red.

"I don't get it," Alistair said, eventually. "The whole bloody city's lyrium addled."

"What?" Lina sniffed.

"Her! 'The pretty one'? I mean she's alright, but…"

He looked down at her just in time to see her blush and duck her head. Alistair may not have been the most experienced with the ladies, but he knew, for once, he had said the right thing at the right time. Now he just had to not ruin it. Andraste's eyeballs, let him carry it off this once. He smiled at, her, in a way he hoped was cool.

"I think all the nobles are too used to looking at Darkspawn."

He shrugged his shoulders and walked away. Then he tripped over a stray nug that was running around the bottom of the stairs in a panic and fell flat on his face.

Lina laughed so much she had to lean against the wall to keep herself standing upright.

She was in a much better mood for the rest of their visit, though.

Lina:

He was in her tent. Ever since Alistair and Lina had finally stopped "nug-footing around each other", as Oghren put it, they'd ended up spending at least part of every night in the same tent. Half the time, they weren't even doing anything, despite what comments Zevran and Morrigan liked to make when one or both Wardens would emerge, bed-headed and a little sheepish in the morning. Half the time, it was just wanting to stay there, together, and be quiet. To feel like there was something in the world other than nightmares. Lina loved their camp, for just that reason. Kindness, her War Hound, always found the best branches for the fire, that crackled and burned sweetly. Each time they set up, Morrigan's little corner got nearer to the brilliant warmth they all sat and ate around. Wynne cooked, Leliana sang, Sten and Kindness played tug-o-war, Oghren and Shale yelled at each other, but in a joking, friendly sort of way. They were almost a family, sometimes. Lina had never really had one of those. Her sister, in Orzammar, was related to her, but she realised now that there was something… missing. Rica had treated her more like a bodyguard, like hired muscle to keep her from getting beaten on while she desperately tried to get sprogged up with a noble son.

What she'd found here was different. She couldn't really say what it was. It was more than just Alistair. It was all of them. They feared her, and respected her, and more than that. They...

Lina watched the firelight play on the canvas from the other side, one arm stretched across Alistair's bare chest as his hand lazily traced lines up and down her spine, occasionally pausing to toy with the ends of her hair.

"That's dangerous," he muttered, making her look up at him. His head and shoulders were propped against her pillows, and he made no attempt to hide the fact that he had been watching her.

"What?"

"That face. It usually happens when you're thinking and when you think, there's usually a death count involved."

Lina laughed.

"Well, one of us has to think occasionally."

"Nah," Alistair shook his head, a sleepy smile spreading over his face, "why start now?"

Lina snorted, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder. He nudged her, the hand at her back still and flat.

"Do I get to know what you're thinking about?"

"Just," Lina shrugged. She hadn't done all that much talking lately. Sure, she made her voice heard, but as with battle, so with social situations. She would much rather ask the right question once than talk endlessly about herself. With sweet, babbling Leliana around, and the constant squabbles between Alistair and Morrigan, she had thought she might be able to get away without saying anything. But then, she had gone and fallen for the only royal to ever have a heart. The goof who would be king.

"Just…" Alistair prompted, "oh, is it a guessing game? I love guessing games, let me try. Um… you were just thinking… how fantastically handsome I am."

"Ha. No, the taint hasn't turned me mad yet."

"Oof," Alistair acted hurt, but he was smiling, "hm… You were just thinking how you're so glad you're travelling with such a virile and strapping figure of masculinity?"

"Not what I was thinking, but you're right. I should thank Morrigan again for coming with us."

Alistair laughed at that, his head dropping back and the corners of his eyes creasing.

"You shouldn't say that, she'll hear you and punish me. Come on," he smiled, but with concern. "My Eve. Tell me, what's going on in your head?"

Lina met his eye for a moment, her chest throbbing as he called her that name again. She wondered if she could side-track him away from the conversation into a competition of snarky one lines. It worked sometimes, but she had a feeling this wasn't one of them. She took a deep breath and sat up, so she could look at him properly, pulling up one leg so she could hug her knee to her chest. There was so much more of him than there was of her, in a lot of ways. He cared, so much, even about her. She'd spent years not caring. When you get born with a brand that dooms you to be a beggar, a sprog-pusher or a criminal, it limits your options for caring.

"I was just thinking how this could have all gone differently... There are so many ways we could have not had this. And, I mean, don't get me wrong I love this bit of it, but this is just a bit of it and in some ways, I think it would have been better. If that all hadn't happened, then maybe none of this would have happened, but then this wouldn't have happened."

Alistair looked at her, eyebrows drawn in confusion.

"Did… Did I crack your head? When we were doing that thing before-"

"Shut up," Lina said, punching him on the arm. Alistair laughed and tried to bat her hands away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop hitting me!"

"I was trying to be... You ruined it."

"Well you looked like you wanted me to say something, and honestly I had no idea what you were talking about. Come on, try again, take it slowly."

Lina scowled, but she stopped hitting him. She shuffled around so she was looking at him.

"There are so many ways it could have happened. If Duncan had chosen different Wardens to go to the tower, or only one of us, or if I had been a good little casteless and known my place. If I'd been happy being hired muscle… If you hadn't left the chantry. And I don't for one second regret… us. And I don't resent my duty or the wardens or any of it, but it just all feels so… flimsy. Like it was flimsy luck that got us this far and what if the ancestors just turn around and realise their mistake? Or Andraste or whatever there is up there deciding all this?"

Alistair looked at her for a moment, completely honestly. Lina was a little scared of Alistair when he looked like that. So honest and pure and chantry-ish. She was scared she might break him or he might see a sunset and start crying or something. She snorted again, to break the heavy silence.

"Or I could have left you with Flemeth, I'm sure she liked the look-"

Alistair grabbed her hands and pressed her knuckles to his mouth, big doofy smile in place as soon as he lowered them.

"My Eve. Just when I think I know you… I love you. I love that you think that way. And, look, you needn't worry about 'what if'. I mean, the way I see it, certain things would have happened no matter what. The blight would still be going on, right?"

"Right."

"And when we went to Orzammar, didn't we help that one dwarf set up a chantry post?"

"Well yeah…"

"So, who's to say you wouldn't have sought the chantry to repent your crimes? Become a cloistered sister like Leliana?"

Lina snorted, and Alistair shrugged.

"Alright, maybe not. But what if you'd joined the legion of the dead? You said that was something you'd considered, right? If we're talking what if, what if I never left the chantry, took my vows and got stationed to help set up the post in Orzammar? Then got sent on a Deep Roads expedition and met up with a beautiful, fearsome legionnaire? Or a cloistered sister with a troubled past?"

"Now you're being stupid."

"I'm just saying, 'what if' goes two ways. What if one or both of us had died. What if we hadn't been recruited at all but met on a rocky mountain pass? What if I'd been born with black hair, or you were born with an extra toe on your right foot? You could drive yourself mad with it and half of it wouldn't matter. You know why?"

He nudged her. She sighed.

"Why?"

"Because I love you. And I know I would have found you one way or another and loved you just the same. Maybe it would have happened sooner or maybe later, but in any scenario where we both lived long enough to meet, you would always be my Eve."

Lina didn't blush. She was a hardened, violent casteless who cared only for brawling and other scary things. She certainly didn't shove Alistair so hard he nearly fell over when he pointed out how much she wasn't blushing.

He grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply before resting back on the bedding, hugging her to his side. There was a moment's silence before she managed to mumble "love you too." She could hear his stupid grin.

He laughed, making her look up.

"What?"

"No, it's… just… Is it wrong that I somehow find the image of me as a Templar or a brother of the Chantry, and you as a cloistered sister actually kind of… attractive?"

Lina laughed. Alistair pushed himself up on his elbows, looking at her.

"No really, you know, the whole forbidden love purity vows thing… I wonder if Leliana still has her robes…"

Lina smiled.

"I doubt they'll fit."

"Well you wouldn't be wearing them for long, would you?"

Lina was a fearsome warrior. She certainly wasn't ticklish, certainly not so much so that Alistair had already figured out exactly the weak spots most likely to incapacitate her. As she thrashed and giggled while he mercilessly attacked her ribs, there was a rain of tak-tak-tak sounds as a handful of gravel was thrown against the side of the tent.

"If you believe it private enough we would not wish to see it," Morrigan's voice was strong and clear, "that suggests we would also rather not hear it."

"However, if you'd like to share with the whole group or even just select members, we will not judge," called Zevran.

Lina stifled her giggles as Alistair turned bright pink and backed off.

"Love," she whispered, getting in a more comfortable sleeping position.

"My Eve," Alistair said, in the exact same childish tone. He lay down beside her and threw an arm over her, pulling her closer to him. Eventually, the fire burned out and the rest of the party curled up in their own tents, but Lina and Alistair were long asleep by then.


End file.
